Disclaimer: High society is best avoided and ignored.
*****
Rampant Snobbery
Bill nodded his head a few times as Remus explained the problem. It was a sticky one, but not beyond his skill level. Gringotts had spent years and mountains of gold turning him into one of the best at what he did.
"Can you do it?" Remus finished intently.
"Don't normally do this sort of thing," Bill admitted. "Not to say I can't, just that it'll take me a bit longer to put them up then a professional Warder would. On the other hand, I've run across a few things in my travels that most British Warders have never so much as dreamed of."
"This place will be safe then?"
"For you and yours," Bill agreed. "It'll be a Death Eater's worst nightmare. Especially with the little addition I made that targets dark marks, pity Dumbledore won't allow me to add it to the protections at Headquarters and Hogwarts."
"Pity he thinks Snape is more important than the students," Remus spat. "Sorry about that," he added immediately. "It was uncalled for. It's just after hearing about Harry's . . . ah . . . mishaps, I'm just a bit on edge."
"It wasn't uncalled for," Bill sighed, wishing things were different. "There's a reason I've been enchanting my sibling's school robes."
"Oh?"
"They'll shrug off anything short of an unforgivable," Bill agreed proudly. "There are Aurors that go into battle with less protections."
"Can you . . ."
"I'll do the same for Harry and the girls as soon as I finish with the house," Bill promised.
"Thank you."
IIIIIIIIII
Harry was in the sitting room with Hermione's parents when Jim arrived with the girls in tow. The man then proceeded to spend the next several minutes describing the collection of motorcycles
"God, not another one," Anne lamented.
"Another what?" Luna chirped.
"I'm afraid that collecting things is a bit of a tradition in our families," Phil laughed. "I like cars, my father was fond of companies, and my grandfather liked airplanes. Most of which are currently on loan to various museums at the moment."
"On our side, Hermione had a great-great-grandfather that collected titles, weapons, and medals," Jim picked up the conversation. "Bloody idiot probably clanked when he moved." From all the shrapnel he'd collected if nothing else. "My father continued the tradition of collecting medals until the end of the war and liked artwork during and after, thought it made him . . . well, it doesn't matter." Not since the old man's last stroke anyway.
"What do you collect?" Harry asked.
"Motorcycles," Jim replied. "I'm with you on that one, Harry."
"Also girlfriends and trouble," Anne interjected. "The stories I could tell."
"Got a great collection of scars," Jim agreed. "Motorcycle accidents, stupidity, and angry ex-girlfriends all make for an interesting patchwork." Not to mention on the job injuries, most of which didn't fit the afore mentioned categories. "Got a line of dots across my bum from a pitchfork." And a woman who was very unhappy to find him with her twin sister, something he still maintained was not his fault since how was he to have known? He'd been just as surprised as she was.
"Luna," Anne sighed dramatically. "It looks as if the two of us are the only sane people here. My husband with his cars, my brother and Harry with their motorcycles, my daughter with her books. It's up to us to keep them from going madder then they already are."
"Don't listen to her, Luna," Phil advised. "She's as crazy as the rest of us."
"Really?"
"My wife has an impressive collection of jewelry," Phil confided.
"Which is still smaller then yours," Anne sighed. "Not to mention the fact that I inherited most of it and that you're the one that gave me the rest of it."
"See how she tries to justify her neuroses?" Phil whispered.
"Best just to humor her," Jim advised. "She could snap at any moment."
IIIIIIIIII
Ron held his breath as the woman looked over the sample. It was a testament to his state of mind that only a small fraction of his attention was captured by the way her hands were sensuously and suggestively caressing the shaft of wood he'd given her.
"Bit large," she said after an eternity of silence.
"Your hands are a bit small," Ron reposted. A hand reached up to mop the sweat off his brow. "Don't match the tracing I was given at all."
"She was sick," the woman explained. "It matters that much?"
"Does it . . ." Ron was so taken aback by the woman's question that he forgot his earlier nervousness. "Give me your hand." Without waiting for an answer, he seized her by the wrist and dragged the woman to the workbench he'd set up in his father's shed. "Hold still," Ron commanded. A couple seconds later, he had a rough tracing of the woman's hand. "See?"
"What am I looking at?"
"The one on the left is the tracing I was given." He dropped it over the one he'd just made. "See how it covers your hand?"
"Yes," she agreed.
"If you want it to fit then don't send me someone else's measurements. Wouldn't send a friend to get fitted for your robes would you?"
"Suppose not," she agreed with a grin. "How soon to get a sample in my size?"
"Couple minutes for something rough," Ron muttered. He got no respect, absolutely no respect at all. "Sit down."
"What kind of wood are you using?"
"Pine," Ron replied as he tried to find the right blank.
"The shaft on my broomstick is made out of maple," she pointed out.
"Then if you want a sample in maple, you can bloody well pay for it. You want a free one, you're getting pine."
"Alright." She settled down with a smile. "I hear you play?"
"Good enough to get on a house team but not even close to good enough to go pro," Ron agreed surprising himself that there wasn't even a hint of bitterness in his voice. "You want to scout, talk to Harry."
"He has the wrong set of equipment to play for my team," she giggled.
"Well then your team better hope to Merlin he doesn't decide to turn pro," Ron laughed back. "If he does, you'll have to get used to the idea of playing to be named number two in the league. Harry Potter doesn't know how to lose."
"What do you know?" she growled, a bit annoyed by the boy's superior tone.
"Enough to listen to Madame Hooch when she decides to share her opinion." Ron looked up from his work. "Give me your hand."
"Really?" she allowed him to seize her by the wrist again.
"She says that he's the finest natural flyer she's ever seen and that he's gotten better every year he's played," Ron agreed. "Let me see the other."
"Raw talent won't take you to the top."
"It will when you add a bunch of private lessons with Madame Hooch," Ron retorted. "Your hands are different. Injury?"
"Bludger shattered the left and it never healed right," she agreed. "Is that important?"
"Which hand to you prefer to grip with?"
"The left."
Ron pursed his lips. "Can't hold a bat with it?"
"No, I grip with my legs and use the left hand for balance."
"We'll have to do something special for you then," Ron said slowly. "I'm gonna need you to cast a couple charms for me."
"Why?"
"Cause I don't feel like taking the time to do it the muggle way and I'm still covered by the unreasonable restriction," Ron explained. "Try this."
"Feels good," she said in delight. "Fits my hand like a glove."
"Won't do you a whole lot of good with that hand of yours, which is why we're going to try some other things."
"Don't worry about it," she laughed. "I've seen enough to recommend you to the others."
"Really?" Ron's face lit up. "That's great. I'd still like to try out my ideas with you though."
"What are you doing tomorrow, kid?"
"Nothing important," Ron replied. "Come in your gear."
"Why?"
"So we can get the best fit possible."
"Oh, I figured it was because you had some twisted fantasy you wanted me to help you with," she teased.
"I do. Several actually," Ron admitted with a deep blush. "Best to get the business out of the way first though."
She stared at the boy in shock for a split second before bursting into laughter. "You're alright." Looked like getting a new broom would be funner than she thought it would be.
IIIIIIIIII
After a moment to assure himself that everyone had finished with their meals, Phil nodded to his guests as everyone rose from the table.
"Care to join me in the study for a digestif, Harry, Jim?"
"Alright, sir . . . eh . . . Phil," Harry agreed.
"You know I never turn down free booze," Jim announced.
"What about that martini you sent back at my ninth birthday party?" Hermione asked innocently. "You wouldn't even touch it."
"They shook it. Which is something anyone with even an ounce, even an iota, of sense knows not to do. It ruins the drink. It doesn't count when they've ruined a drink." He raised his chin. "Only two reasons I would ever lower myself to ordering something like that: The first is if I was doing my best to convince the world that I was an ill bred uncultured lout aping his betters, the second is if for some reason I wanted my drink to be a bit watered down for some ungodly reason. Stir clear drinks, shake the cloudy ones."
Hermione giggled at the uncharacteristic look of seriousness on her normally completely unserious uncle's face.
He gave a pompous sniff. "I never joke about my booze." Which caused the girl to giggle uncontrollably.
"Would you girls care to join me in the conservatory?" Anne asked.
Hermione glanced over at Luna to read her friend's face. "Okay, mum."
Anne smiled. "Wonderful, come along girls."
Jim followed his brother in law to the study and waited until the door was closed and locked to put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let me tell you something, lad. The truth is, I'm impressed, I honestly am. Fact is, well, fact is that I'd normally applaud a man that was dating two women. Believe me when I say that I understand more than anyone how difficult it can be, bad enough when you're keeping them apart but when they know about each other . . . well, that brings up a whole new set of problems doesn't it?"
He allowed his grip to tighten a hair and his voice dropped a couple of octaves. "Problem I have with your situation is that one of the girls you're dating is my favorite niece, the apple of my eye. Would you like to know what I'd do to someone that hurt her, Harry?" He'd been joking at the course, he was deadly serious now.
"Would you like to know what I've told everyone else?" Harry asked calmly, meeting the man's eyes. No sign at all that he was the least intimidated.
Jim had to admit, if only privately, that the boy had impressed him, there was no trace of fear in Harry's voice. Another sign that he needed to take a serious look at what exactly was going on at his niece's school.
"What?"
"The only way that Hermione will get hurt with me around is if they've got me first," Harry said firmly. "And even then they're going to have to climb over a pile of their dead friends to get to her." The boy's voice hardened. "Hermione's good enough to get the ones I miss."
"Fair enough," Jim agreed.
"And we're not dating," Harry added, breaking eye contact and blushing.
Jim rocked the room with a great booming laugh. "Whatever you say, Harry."
IIIIIIIIII
Molly looked around the table with a satisfied smile on her face. She loved being surrounded with her husband and children. She reached out and ladled another helping of potatoes onto her youngest son's plate and added a slightly smaller one to her sole daughter's.
"I'm going to need your help with the gardening tomorrow, Ronald," Molly announced. "So you are going to have to-"
"Afraid I can't help out much tomorrow, mum," Ron interrupted, shocking the table. "Got a custom fitting to do."
Molly's eyes flashed.
"Who are you fitting, Ron?" Arthur asked, cutting of his wife's tantrum.
"One of the Harpies' starting beaters," Ron replied. "She's got a bad left hand so I think it'll take most of the day. I'll try to get done early so I can help you later, mum."
"One of the Harpies?" Molly repeated dumbly. That put a whole new spin on things, her son wasn't slacking off! Her darling boy was preparing for a future career!
"Yeah, mum. Madame Hooch set it up."
"How well does it pay?" she needed to make sure her baby would have enough to support himself after all. All well and good to do what you loved so long as what you loved paid your bills and allowed you keep your family comfortable.
"I don't know how much it'll be, mum." He worked out a few figures. "I haven't established myself yet so I have to keep my prices low."
"Ronald," her tone had a bit of warning in it.
"Maybe three or four thousand galleons."
"Three... thousand... galleons?" she squeaked.
"Not that I'll see much of that since I can't do any of the enchanting myself," Ron hastened to add. "Not to mention materials. Maybe a couple hundred for myself after everything is done." He scratched his chin. "Maybe more, maybe less. Hermione's gonna help me figure it out later."
"You be sure to thank her properly," Molly said automatically, still in shock from the numbers her son had casually thrown out.
IIIIIIIIII
Neville woke up early and spent the next few hours enduring the preparations for the day's party in better cheer then he usually did. He wouldn't be alone, that thought boosted him immensely. He might even be able to use Harry and the others as an excuse to ignore the usual halfwits that his grandmother's guests brought with them.
He drifted through the rest of the day in a daze until the house elves finally announced the arrival of his friends. Neville flashed a quick smile at Harry and the girls as his Gran made a more formal greeting.
"Neville, why don't you show Mr. Potter and his companions to the veranda while I continue my discussion with Mrs. Granger," Augusta ordered.
"Yes, Gran," Neville agreed quickly. "This way, guys." He hadn't realized that the two women had started a conversation. "I'm glad you came," Neville added as soon as he was sure they were out of earshot.
IIIIIIIIII
She squeaked in shock as Ron's hands inadvertently brushed against another sensitive area and again when he grabbed her by the thigh and rearranged things to his satisfaction.
"You know," she began trying desperately to keep her voice steady. "I usually expect dinner and a drink before letting myself be manhandled like this."
"What?" Ron glanced up from his work. "You say something?"
"Or at the very least an introduction," she continued. "Do you even know my name?"
"Mandy Maxwell, starting left side beater. Been in the league for two years, considered a shoe in for the national team in the next world cup," Ron recited. "Favorite color is red, favorite food is human hearts, enjoys long walks on the beach and beating men to death."
"Favorite color is green, favorite food is chips with a lot of malt vinegar, I do enjoy long walks on the beach but prefer sitting under trees and listening to nature. Our public relations folks came up with the answers you gave."
"Guess you can't trust everything you read after all." Ron developed a wicked grin. "Gonna have to remember to tell a friend of mine."
"I'm sure." Mandy smiled at the boy, she wasn't that much older then he was. Couple years didn't matter too much, especially not when one considered the average magic user's lifespan. It was something to consider anyway.
"Now all we need to do is . . . no, guess that won't work. Maybe if we . . ." Ron frowned in concentration. "Wait here."
Ron strode out of his workshop and towards the garden in search of his mother.
"Finished already?" Molly asked.
"Need your help with something, mum," Ron replied. "Can't cast any charms myself yet and I don't think she'll be able to and hold on at the same time."
"What do you need me to do?"
"Levitation charms," Ron explained. "I need you to levitate my blank so that I can make sure my customer gets a good fit."
"Alright," Molly agreed. She was curious to see what her baby boy was doing in the shed anyway. "Just give me a couple minutes to clean up."
IIIIIIIIII
Harry was awestruck at the view the veranda on Neville's house afforded. It's place on top of the hill dominated the countryside and gave a commanding view of acres and acres of farmers' fields to the east and a wood that looked as if it rivaled the Forbidden Forest to the west. Hermione and Luna, less so. Verbally much less so.
"What's that little house down there for?" Hermione demanded. "Is it your guest house?" the girl just couldn't understand why they'd spoil the view with such an eyesore. The ugly thing was just the sort of crass shack that new money would slap together in some pathetic attempt to show how important they thought they were.
"That's where Malfoy lives," Neville said sourly.
"That?" Hermione asked incredulously. "That? But . . . but it's so . . . so tiny and tacky. As pompous as he is I'd have expected something impressive not, not that."
"Hermione's garden shed is bigger than that thing is," Harry added cheerfully.
"What?" Neville gave his friend an odd look, trying to determine if the other boy was joking or telling the truth.
"Don't listen to him, Neville," Hermione said quickly. "My garden shed isn't even half the size of Malfoy's house."
"Yes it is," Harry argued. Neither teen noticed the sizable crowd of eavesdroppers they'd gathered. "It's not as tall, but it covers a lot more space."
"Which building are you talking about, Harry?" Hermione bit her lower lip.
"The one behind your father's garage," Harry replied.
Hermione's eyes lit up. "Ah. Those are the old stables, not the garden shed," she explained. "Sorry about the confusion, Neville," she said contritely. "My garden shed is maybe a third the size of Malfoy's house if that." The girl's smile widened. "Much less tacky though," she added after a suitable pause. "Though that isn't a high bar to reach."
"No problem," Neville said with a wide toothy grin. He couldn't wait until the slights, both intentional and unintentional, reached the Malfoy family. "Just how big . . ." he caught himself. "Never mind, please forgive my slip."
"I didn't hear a thing," Hermione said politely.
"Why are the Malfoys so close to you?" Harry asked.
"The Normans invaded and set up a siege camp, the castle didn't fall and they never left." Pity the sewer no longer drained into their front yard.
"I hadn't realized Malfoy's family was that old," Hermione said, a bit impressed that the boy's boasts had any substance at all.
"It isn't," Neville said quickly, a bit embarrassed to have to be the one to explain things. "The current Malfoy family bought the property about a hundred years ago. They claimed to be from the branch of the original Malfoy family that had never left France, but . . ." Neville shrugged.
"You don't think so?"
"I've read some of my ancestors journals dealing with the time," Neville agreed. "They mention the fact that Altus Malfoy bore a strong resemblance to a Jacques Roux, Beauxbatons class of 1880, muggleborn."
"That doesn't make any sense," Hermione said in confusion. "Malfoy's always talking about how pure he is. I . . ." she shook her head.
"The young families are usually the ones that feel they have something to prove," Neville said gently, hoping he wasn't going to offend one of the guests that were eavesdropping on the conversation he was having with Hermione. "The older ones tend not to be so worried about little things or to act like they need to prove something."
"How long has your family been here, Neville?" Luna asked cautiously.
"An unbroken line of my blood's been on this spot since before the Romans got here, same with Harrys'" Neville announced proudly.
"So there's been a Longbottom on this spot for more then two thousand years," Hermione said softly. More than a bit impressed by that bit of trivia. "Wait Harry's as well?" Hermione asked before Harry could get a word out.
"No," Neville said quickly, a bit distressed by the confusion his poor explanations were causing. "The Longbottom family has been here about three hundred years. Um, John Longbottom married Angela Belasis and the Belasis family had no sons and that's why I'm a Longbottom and that's why I'm here. I can't remember what family the Belasises married into. But for the Potters' from what I remember they came up with the Romans and when Rome left the Potters stayed."
IIIIIIIIII
Molly was more then a bit mystified by everything her youngest son had asked her to do. First he'd had her levitate the stick he'd been carving, then he'd had the woman climb on to it, and now he was asking her to turn the stick upside down.
"Need to make sure she can hold on, mum," Ron explained quickly. "Give her a couple bounces if she does."
"Please," the woman added.
"Alright." Molly flicked her wand a couple times causing the woman to rotate.
"Faster," Ron demanded. "And rougher."
"That's . . ." Mandy bit her tongue before she could add the words 'my line,' probably not the best thing to say in front of his mother. "Perfectly fine," she covered. "Better to fall off two feet above the ground than two hundred."
"If you're sure," Molly agreed.
"How is it?" Ron demanded
"Much better then the broom I've got now," Mandy enthused. "How soon can you modify the one I've got?"
"Might be better to build a new one from scratch with all the work we gotta do cause of your hand," Ron demurred. "Freeze it, mum."
Molly was scandalized by the way her son walked over to the woman and began cavalierly doing things with his hands in places no gentleman had any business.
"Ronald-"
"Could you hand me that pencil by you, mum?" Ron interrupted. "I need to get these marks in so I can make some adjustments."
"What?" Molly asked dumbly.
"Pretend he's a tailor," Mandy advised. "You know how it is when you're getting a new robe fitted. It's the same thing here."
"I suppose," Molly sighed. The things she put up with for the sake of her children.
IIIIIIIIII
Augusta watched in amusement as Anne, a woman who showed a surprising amount of decorum for a mere muggle, broke off the conversation to take a quick look around the room.
"Problem?" Augusta asked mildly.
"I seem to have misplaced my husband," Anne admitted. "I do apologize, he's never been too fond of social gatherings. Probably hiding in some out of the way corner, I'll have security run him down later."
"His upbringing not prepare him for gatherings of this sort?" Augusta asked cautiously, not wanting to offend.
"It did. I'm afraid that it's his nature that's getting in the way here." She smiled fondly. "He's always been a bit shy around crowds."
"I see." Augusta nodded. "I would have never guessed it judging by how he dresses."
"New money, you understand."
"Oh?"
"My husband's family were mostly merchants until about two, three hundred years ago when they started building up enough of a fortune to be considered significant," Anne said with a dismissive wave. "I think my mother traced them back to the sixteen hundreds before she got bored or something like that. I haven't bothered to commission a genealogist to look into it, though I suppose I should at some point."
"Really?" Augusta said in surprise. "Why did she do that?" she hadn't thought that sort of thing was important to muggles.
"My mother, step mother I should say, was a horrible snob and more then a bit disgusted that I was marrying 'below my station' instead of catching Lord inbred the fifth like she wanted," Anne giggled. "Certainly changed her tune when she realized that he could buy and sell our family with pocket change. Then again she always was a bit of a gold digger. I always maintained that daddy never should have married her, not that I was ever asked for my opinion on the matter."
"I understand," Augusta laughed. "My elder brother did something similar."
"I'm just glad that my husband is more sensible then that," Anne sniffed.
"As was mine. If there was one time he showed good judgement, it was when he chose his wife," Augusta pronounced severely. The two women maintained their serious expressions for a few seconds before dissolving into laughter. "What about your family?"
"Hmmm?"
"You said your husband comes from a line of merchants and that your mother was a snob," Augusta prompted. "What sort of family did you come from?"
IIIIIIIIII
Molly watched in fascination as Ron carved the broomstick blank. She'd never seen this side of her son, never expected him to put much effort into anything until he was hit by reality and forced to become a responsible member of society.
"Interesting, isn't it?"
The other woman's voice brought Molly back to reality. "I'm sorry?"
"Interesting, isn't it?" Mandy repeated. "The way he gets so focused."
"I've never seen him like this," Molly confessed. "Would you like something to drink? Or I suppose I could get you some snacks."
"I'm fine," Mandy said quickly. "My trainer would murder me if I broke her carefully constructed diet."
"You're on a diet?" Molly's face showed disbelief. "As thin as you are?"
"It's more about strength and endurance then it is about losing weight," she explained. "Uh, would you mind if I spent more time here?"
"Take as much time as you'd like, dear," Molly said brightly. "We want your new broomstick to fit perfectly don't we?"
"That's not . . ." Mandy licked her lips. "Do you mind if I continue visiting even after my broomstick is completed?"
Molly smile widened. "Not at all, dear. Not at all."
IIIIIIIIII
Phil had a smile on his face when he rejoined his wife and daughter. He'd have never thought a magical party could be so potentially profitable, just went to show that people were the same and that magic mattered not a wit.
"Have a good conversation with your friends, darling?" he drawled.
"Yes, daddy," Hermione agreed. "Did you enjoy yourself, mum?" Neville had been so shocked when his Gran spent the majority of the party conversing with only one guest.
"I did, darling. Augusta and I have been talking and you'll never guess what we've determined," Anne said to her daughter.
"What's that, mum?" Hermione asked.
"You and Neville are cousins on my side," Augusta said with a faint smile. "Well, distant ones anyway."
"I think we figured it was five hundred years since any of us have had a common ancestor," Anne added. "I'd have to go through the books to be sure."
"Still, it's very interesting, isn't it?" Augusta gave the Grangers a measured look. "Very interesting indeed."
"You throw a lovely party, Augusta. You simply must allow us to host you some time," Anne demanded as she shrugged into her coat. "After that, I would love to get a chance to introduce you to society."
"I would love the chance to be introduced," Augusta agreed. "Thank you for the invitation, Anne. Shall we pencil something in after classes resume?"
"We'll work out the details later," Anne agreed. "Have a good evening, Augusta."
"Have a good night, Anne."